


Let Your Guard Down

by TheCourier



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Age Difference, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, Premature Ejaculation, baby's first BDSM lesson light, incredibly light, polyamory if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCourier/pseuds/TheCourier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Maxson is a big sub who likes ladies who can probably bench press him, pass it on</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Guard Down

The first time Samantha met Elder Maxson was about a month after she had left the Vault. The Wasteland hadn't fully crept in yet. She had still clung to her life before the war and all that entailed, the pincurls, the red lipstick, the wedding ring, even the Vault suit. She had still tried to to be the good wife, a person that never existed.

Her second time aboard the Prydwen, she was still in mourning, but started to move on. She had exchanged the pincurls for a shorter, no fuss haircut, the lipstick for a fresh scar across her lower lip, which joined the burn across most of her face, and the Vault suit for the armored leather jacket she had taken off Kellogg's corpse. Even with her best friend dead and their son still missing, she felt a weight off her shoulders. She felt more like herself than she had in the last years of her old life. There was no one around anymore that she needed to pretend for. For the first time in a long time, she felt like a soldier again.

When she entered the command deck, Maxson was looking out the prow window overlooking the foggy airport, his hands clasped behind his back. “You wanted to see me,” she said curtly. She couldn't bring herself to call the young man by his title. It was absurd.

He didn't turn around when he spoke to her. “Paladin Danse's report of you securing Fort Strong was favourable, Knight.” This wasn't what he wanted to say. She waited. “Why didn't you report back, as ordered, before now?” His tone was clipped.

“I had other things to take care of,” she replied. “I've been open with you when I joined. I had other priorities.”

“The next time you're on a mission, I expect you back immediately, as ordered.” He tried to keep his voice flat, neutral. He still had his back to her, apparently hoping that she wouldn't hear the slight tremor in his voice this way. “This was a first time offense, so there won't be punishment. But don't let it happen again. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” Despite his youth and the tremor she had heard, she felt herself standing up straighter. She really was still a soldier, taking orders. She turned around and climbed the ladder to the flight deck.

\--

She was busy for the rest of the afternoon; checked in with Danse, who only gave her a mild dressing down for vanishing for more than a month, repairing her weapons, fixing up the inlay of her jacket, offloading the parts she didn't need with Proctor Teagan, had supper in the mess. Before she realized it, it had gotten dark.

No point to leave today, really. There was nothing down there that couldn't wait until dawn. Which was how she found herself in Maxson's quarters shortly before lights out. He was having his dinner alone, late, a plate of tatoes and brahmin steak, with some sort of mutfruit compote. The same thing that had been served in the mess. Teagan must have found someone else to bully the local farms into supplying the ship.

Samantha didn't wear the Brotherhood uniform. It made it easier for her to change her mindset from being soldier and superior officer to being just two people. She sat down opposite Maxson and made herself comfortable. Maxson didn't even flinch, just kept chewing his food. “Do your people see how it wears on you?”

He swallowed before looking up. “What are you talking about, Knight?”

“Command. It wears you out. You're twenty years old and you're starting to go grey. It's a common sign of stress. Do you ever relax, even for just a night? Do you always eat in here?”

His knuckles started to go white, his hands gripping his cutlery tightly. “You're out of line, soldier.”

Samantha swallowed once, then looked him directly in the eye, made her voice firm: “No.”

He didn't reply. His eyebrows just rose as he looked at her, so she continued. “You know as well as I do that I'm not really a part of your Brotherhood. Talk to me. Let your guard down. Just for a while.”

“There is nothing to tell,” he replied stubbornly, before starting to dig into his food again.

She hadn't expected him to spill his guts just because she told him to, but the fact that he hadn't thrown her out immediately was encouraging.

“Fine.” She uncrossed her legs, set both her elbows on the table, folded her fingers in front of her and looked directly at him. “Are you familiar with the concept of safewords?”

That got him to pay attention. He set down his fork and knife. His arm was between him and his plate, and from the way he had adjusted the way he sat, she guessed it to be a small defense mechanism, to keep something between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Why is that relevant?”

“From that reply, I guess you are, but I need a clear answer. Are you or are you not?”

“A safeword is used during sexual relations of a violent nature, to stop the act immediately.”

“That sounded rehearsed, but you have the gist of it. Do you have one?”

“No.” He looked down at his still half full plate, clearly trying to avoid her gaze.

“I think you need a chance to let go of control for a while and I think I can help you with that. I would like you to pick one now. If you don't, that's okay. I'll leave this room immediately and never bring this up again, unless you do so first. And no matter which option you choose, nothing of this will ever leave this room.”

She looked at him, watched him think. It was obvious what was going through his head, mulling the whole thing over. “Any word?”

“Any, as long as you don't normally use it during sex.” A thought occurred to her. “Have you had sex before?” She didn't know if she could go through with this, if the answer was no. It would make the age difference too real. Even under all that carefully maintained beard and bravado, Samantha could see the boy he still was, but also the man he was becoming, if given the chance. The man he pretended so hard to already be. But that carefully maintained beard and bravado also made it a lot easier to forget how young he still was.

“Of course I have.” He actually sounded indignant. He also sounded his age. That didn't help.

“That is not as much of a given as you might think. You have been Elder for four years and you don't seem to be the kind of person to sleep with your subordinates. Which is good, but also limits your options.” She only winced slightly – and then only inwardly – when she used his title.

“There are other people outside the Brotherhood you can have intercourse with.”

“Good. I'm glad. Now that that's off the table: Pick a safeword.”

“Institute.”

She felt the urge to sigh, but let it go. “If you are in any way uncomfortable, anytime, I want you to use it. If you are in a position that renders you unable to speak, I will give you this-” She looked around, for something she could use. This was bad. Bad planning. Wordlessly, Maxson got up, handed her a baseball from his cabinet and sat down opposite her again. “Thank you. Should you be unable to speak, I will give you this baseball and you will drop it. In both cases, I will stop immediately, undo anything I have done, back off and then only touch you again if you give your consent. We will then talk about it. Understood?”

He nodded mutely. There was a set to his jaw that made it seem like he was clenching his teeth. Samantha filed that information away for possible use later.

“Is there anything that makes you uncomfortable that I need to know not to do? Take your time. This is important.” She settled back into her chair to wait.

She could see that he actually considered different scenarios by the way his posture changed several times. Slightly, but it did. A while later, he shook his head. Samantha raised her eyebrows. “No, there isn't. Not that I know of,” he clarified.

“Good. Then we'll begin. I will talk you through this, if you want me to.”

“No, I don't think so.” He looked at her, almost as if he was daring her to contradict him. It was his decision, no matter what she thought about it. If he got overwhelmed, it was in his power to end things with a word. Still, it would be better to make it explicitly clear to him. Maybe he'd had sex before, but it was obvious he was still inexperienced. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

He swallowed. Relief, maybe? “I will.”

“Remember, you only need to do what I tell you to. Try to relax. I'll go slow and easy.”

He nodded, acknowledging her. Apparently, he wasn't really a talker when not forced to bark orders every five minutes.

Samantha still wore her wedding ring. Not because her vows meant that much to her – it had always been a marriage of convenience for them both – but because she and Nate hadn't been separated for longer than a week since they became friends when they met in basic training. They even got blown up and forced into early retirement together. She took it off now and deliberately set it down on the table. That done, she considered putting on her gloves again, but then reminded herself where she'd been lately and decided against it. When she looked back up, she saw Maxson was watching her. Luckily, he didn't comment.

“I'd like you to kneel.” The words felt odd in her mouth; it had been a while. Piper wasn't really into this kind of play, which had surprised her, at first. Then she firmly put the image of Piper underneath her away. No thinking about either her or Nate anymore. Maxson deserved her full attention, this had been her idea after all.

He had gotten up without a word of protest and only swayed a little when getting down on the floor. Good. That meant he was less likely to change his mind and run away screaming. Samantha got up and walked over to where he knelt, fully clothed, his back straight. His gaze was tracking her every movement. There was less than an arm's length between them now. “Very good.” She reached out to caress his cheek, the feeling of coarse hair below her palm oddly comforting. And even though she knew she was physically taller than him – she was taller than mostly everyone these days – his bravado usually was enough to make him seem taller. She noticed it now, when he barely reached up to her breast, kneeling like this.

She wondered if she could turn the caress into a light slap without spooking him, but decided against it. Better try that later, when she could gauge his responses better. So she simply let her hand wander, across his jaw, chin, down to his neck, not only easing him into it but letting him get used to her touch slowly. His eyes were still on her face above him, maybe trying to figure out her next move, maybe trying to decide what was going on her head, trying to figure out if she had some ulterior motive. She wouldn't put it past him.

She brushed his lips with two fingers. “Open your mouth.” He obeyed almost instantly. She pressed two fingers inside, her other hand resting comfortably at the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Close your mouth, but watch the teeth. Then suck.” Maxson pulled in his lips over his teeth and then started sucking, inexpertly, but enthusiastically. She put her foot down next to his knee, pressing her leg against his, her knee meeting his inner thigh and wasn't too surprised to discover he was already hard underneath his uniform. She resisted rubbing against it, knowing that it would be over very soon if she did. She wanted them both to get at least a little more out of this.

Slowly, she pulled her fingers out of his mouth, carefully smearing saliva across Maxson's face as she did. “Get up and remove your clothes, please,” she ordered, stepping back to give him room to move and maybe collect his thoughts, if he needed to. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but then didn't. He simply got up, took off his jacket, carefully folding it over a chair. Then he got to the business of removing the orange jumpsuit underneath. It wasn't sexy in the least, but efficient, considering the things seemed to have been designed by someone who had seen a picture of bondage gear once and thought it must have been fashion.

“You're allowed to talk, you know. At least for the moment.” Samantha tried to sound encouraging, but she didn't know if she succeeded.

“I'd rather not,” he said, looking up at her. Even underneath his jacket and the uniform it had been obvious he wasn't a slouch, but now, with the top part already off and the bottom part following, she realized how buff he actually was. She firmly tried to push her own arousal aside. Concentrate, she scolded herself. His needs are more important than yours right now. “Why not?”

For a moment, he seemed uncomfortable. It wasn't like he was used to talking about his feelings after all. “Answer me.”

He turned to put his uniform away. She knew he was deflecting, trying to win precious milliseconds, but she let him. “I'm not sure if I can.”

“You're doing so right now,” she pointed out. “Now look at me.” He did. “Enjoying this, or not, is nothing to be ashamed of. This does nothing to change who you are as a person, or as a leader.” She guessed the latter was what he was mostly worried about. She wanted to yell at whoever it was that gave him his job. Too young. He's too young to lead. It will chew him up and spit him out.

She reached for him again. “If you'd rather not talk, that's okay. If you decide you want to do this again, sometime, I can see about organizing a gag. But I would rather not gag you on your first time.”

“I'm not a virgin,” he insisted, sounding his age again.

“I didn't say you were. But you've never done this kind of play before, so that makes you inexperienced. Now shush and kneel.”

He did. He was also still wearing his underwear. She didn't point out that underwear was clothes, too. He would learn his lesson soon enough. She stepped away, putting distance between them and sat down on his narrow cot, legs splayed just a littled. “Come here.”

He made a motion like he wanted to get up again, but she shook her head, just lightly. It was enough for him to understand. He dropped to all fours, then crawled over. It was awkward, and stiff, but he tried. There was enough time for him to learn, if he wanted. He remained on all fours when he reached the bed, looking a little lost, but settled between her legs. Her feet were planted on the ground. “You're doing very well,” she praised. She wanted to call him by his name, but it wouldn't come out.

She leaned forward and cupped his face before she let her hands wander to his shoulder and then down his arms, to his bicep. “Give me your hands,” she ordered. He didn't really seem to know what she meant, he just put his hands in the air in front of his face and waited. He didn't even touch the mattress. Samantha took his hands in her own and guided them to the front of her pants.

She unbuckled the belt and the button of her pants herself. “I'd like you to try to make me come, using your hands and mouth,” she stated, phrasing the command as more of a suggestion deliberately.

Now was the first time, Maxson seemed visibly uncomfortable. His hands clenched. “I-” He consciously breathed in, then out, then tried speaking again. “I don't know how.”

“Don't worry. I'll tell you if I like something or not. Touch me. Use your hands first. Try.” Maxson unclenched his hands and moved a little to settle and make himself more comfortable. He started by pushing his hand down the front of her pants a bit too roughly.

“Easy, tiger. You're not masturbating and this isn't a race,” she chided, trying to make her voice sound somewhere between playful and severe. It seemed to work though, the pressure lessened immediately. He experimentally rubbed against her, more careful this time, still firmly above underwear territory though. He held up his hand, examining his fingers, rubbing them together.

“You're … wet?” His voice went up, making the statement sound like a question.

“I enjoy telling people what to do, the same way you appear to enjoy being told what to do, if your boner is anything to go by,” she explained. “There's all kinds of different things people like. Having young men built like brick shithouses between their legs are among the more common ones, by the way. Now, use both hands.”

The hand that had been in her pants didn't go back in, he tugged her shirt up a bit and just explored. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel her arousal for the first time. He was right, she was wet, more than she'd expected, and this part, he'd definitely done before. He'd somehow managed to unhook her bra, and was now touching her breasts, squeezing one attentively, while he played with the other nipple.

He looked up at her, his otherwise slicked back hair flopping to the side. Some was in his eyes and plastered to his forehead. Apparently her obvious pleasure had made him confident, since he started unbuttoning her shirt. She almost let him, then remembered her role. “Stop.” She reached out to grab his wrist, but he had already let go. “Don't do anything unless told to again.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Samantha's head snapped up. Maxson himself actually seemed startled by the fact that the title had not only left his mouth, but that it had sounded so demure. He ducked his head, trying to make himself seem smaller. She smiled and this time, she didn't soften it. She knew it was devious. “You're a quick learner. Sit back.” He actually put his hands in his lap as he did.

Settling back on her elbows, she kicked Maxson's side lightly, before putting her foot down on the floor again. She didn't want to provoke him by putting her boot-clad foot on his cot. Not yet. “Pull down my pants enough so you have easy access while still on the floor. Don't take them off.” He hooked his fingers into the band of her underwear and pulled them and her pants down in one swift motion, almost to her knees. He seemed unsure to do anything else, so Samantha took his hands into her own again and put down one on her inner thigh and separated his index and middle fingers on the other to guide into herself. “Use your thumb to massage my clit. That's the nub up here. Don't apply too much pressure, there's a lot of nerve endings there. You can experiment with the others, but don't just move them in and out.”

Now that he had not only been given permission but also directions on what to do, he seemed very interested in trying to figure out what she liked. He quickly started using his other hand to stroke her stomach and thigh, and stimulate her clit more, even going so far as to tentatively brush her stomach and hips with his mouth. She whispered a string of encouragements to him, telling him how good he was. It wasn't necessarily that, but more that she could feel his breath coming hot and in short bursts, obviously aroused, that made a low moan leave her throat as he curled his fingers inside her. Samantha could feel him pause, then smile against her stomach, as he resumed his task.

“I want you to go down on me.” To reinforce her point, she pushed his head between her legs. He obediently removed his fingers and actually licked them clean before ducking his head and sucked her clit into his mouth, breathing heavily. He used his tongue a bit too forcefully and he had removed his fingers too early, so that she missed their presence but as she was about to correct him, she realized that she couldn't feel his right hand anymore and that his breathing was coming way too fast. His left hand was still rubbing irregular circles on her thigh. She had to concentrate hard before she could trust her voice. “I did not give you permission to touch yourself.”

But as she said it, she knew it was too late. He guiltily put his right hand up just a fraction of a second before his breath hitched and he came messily all over himself. “If this were another situation, I'd punish you for touching yourself and coming without permission, but I think you already had a sensory overload. Just clean yourself up.”

As he got up, she saw there was a stain of pre-cum on his underwear as well. Apparently, he really had tried to hold out until the last second. He seemed lost, looking for something to clean himself with, without having to leave the room and present himself to the Prydwen's crew as he was. He sighed and reached for his bed sheet. “No. Use your hands and mouth, as before. You don't get off that easy.” He looked at her in exasperation, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the command, having found something he didn't want to do, or the unintentional pun. But he did. He scooped up a big glob of cum, looked at it as if he couldn't believe what he was about to do, and put it in his mouth, swallowing almost immediately.

Samantha was suddenly reminded that she hadn't actually gotten to come yet and brought herself off efficiently while watching Maxson clean himself on her order. While he did that, it seemed like he was about to be ready for another round soon, his cock already hardening again. Youth. Maybe he'd even last longer. Though she wasn't sure if they should take advantage of that yet. It seemed like a good time to check in with him.

“How did you like it? How do you feel?” she asked, while buttoning and righting her shirt again. Her pants were next. Her underwear was uncomfortably sticky.

“I-” He caught himself sooner this time. It probably helped that he was pacing up and down his quarters and didn't look at her. “It was enjoyable. It was good to not have to think for once.” He sounded like he couldn't believe it himself.

“Would you repeat it? Try something else?” Samantha got up. She wasn't mentally ready for a round two, not today. He probably wasn't either. He might think he was, but she was the one with the experience, she was the one who knew better. Had to.

He nodded, looking at her almost shyly. “If you want to, of course.” He took a step towards her, angled his head up, almost as if he wanted to kiss her, but reconsidered. She put on her ring again.

“I'll see if I can't scrounge up something that's suitable to use as a gag. And restraints, maybe.” She smiled. “You could definitely use them.”

He didn't offer to let her stay the rest of the night. She was glad. That meant she didn't have to refuse. Safer.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and mostly unedited, so I wouldn't chicken out on posting this, since it's been like eight to ten years since I last posted fic. Any mistakes are totally mine.
> 
> Also, my first language tends to have a lot more commas than English does and I can't break the habit, so if it seems like there's an abundance of commas in this, that's why.


End file.
